


Breathless

by Bearixt, coaster, ohjustpeachy, stardating



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Flying, Getting Together, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Avengers (2012)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-05 04:08:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20482622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bearixt/pseuds/Bearixt, https://archiveofourown.org/users/coaster/pseuds/coaster, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohjustpeachy/pseuds/ohjustpeachy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardating/pseuds/stardating
Summary: There were all sorts of reasons why Tony lost his breath or why his heart rate went up: flying, holes in the sky, flying into holes in the sky, the fear of his suit shutting down around him, the fear of what was coming to their tiny planet, the fear of his friends and loved ones dying, and... Steve making pizza?-A relay fic written for the “Put On The Suit”  MCU Stony Discord's 2019 July/August Relay Event.





	Breathless

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic written collaborately, relay style, for the "Put On The Suit" MCU Stony Discord's July/August 2019 Relay Event, organized by the lovely [athletiger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/athletiger) and [FestiveFerret](https://archiveofourown.org/users/festiveferret).
> 
> Writers didn't know who they're writing with, so there were no discussion between them. The prompt that started this story was “Flying.”
> 
> Please see the end notes for a break down of who wrote what!

“Sir, your heart rate is still severely elevated. Miss Potts has asked me to remind you that the breathing exercises you practiced would be of benefit in your condition,” JARVIS smoothly interjected as Tony took another sharp turn around the Empire State Building and threw a barrel roll in for good measure.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Tony bit out, pushing his thrusters for more power as he climbed in altitude. It wasn’t that Tony wanted to outright dismiss Pepper’s advice here; she’d hired a very expensive therapist to give Tony all kinds of fancy advice about healthy coping mechanisms after all. It was a move that was entirely like Pepper, despite their break-up, which was the only reason he’d agreed to go in the first place.

And hey, all that kumbaya stuff sounded great, except every time he turned the lights off to try and sleep like a functional person, he saw the gaping abyss of space he’d almost been trapped within only months ago winking behind his eyelids. That day, Tony caught a glimpse of what was lurking hungrily in the shadows. The threat was imminent, a matter of when not if, and they were nowhere near prepared for it yet. All Tony could see were the potential variables stacked against them as he calculated their man power versus the horrors he’d seen waiting for them beyond the wormhole. Thinking about it, some days, Tony was barely holding it together.

But yeah, breathing exercises. That would fix everything. 

Tony tried to concentrate on the schematics for his newest suit design, nanotech that would let him call the suit faster and more reliably than the bracelets. The math was comforting, but nothing beat flying. Tony banked left and took a deep breath just for the hell of it. Up here, he was in control as long as he was moving up, up, up (never falling), the thrum of power encasing his body like a soothing second skin. His breath hissed out, slowly counting to ten as his eyes fluttered shut. Just for a moment, he could be weak. Up here, there was no one to see.

“Sir, Captain Rogers is asking for you,” JARVIS cut in cautiously, displaying the time across the HUD. 8:37 PM glared at Tony accusingly in red block font as he struggled to wrestle up some semblance of composure. 

“Shit!” Tony cursed as he sped back toward the tower, heart rate spiking again for an entirely different reason. It was Friday. He was supposed to have met Steve at seven. The tradition had kind of crept up on them after the team had moved into Stark Tower—their dinner dates, as Clint liked to teasingly call them.

That first time was more luck and circumstance than anything else. With the rest of the team deployed elsewhere or off world, it had just been the two of them in the tower. Tony had stumbled up from his workshop for coffee while Steve was hunched over the microwave, intently studying the user manual like he was plotting out the best plan of attack. If Tony had found Steve’s scrunched brow momentarily distracting, he’d wisely kept it to himself.

That night, Tony had shown Steve the singularly American treasure that was pizza pockets before settling in the common area to just talk and clear some much needed air. After that, they’d met up like clockwork to repeat the ritual, neither daring to break the routine lest the delicate new bond between them shatter like glass. Until today, apparently, just one more thing Tony was failing to hold together. 

When Tony got back to the tower, his suit slipped away as he walked inside from one of the outer decks. He did not immediately see Steve, which was a relief, but he knew the inevitable was coming. Tony eventually found him in the kitchen with his brow scrunched up once more.

Instead of the expression being endearing, almost comical, Tony could not ignore the pang of guilt in his stomach. Steve looked like he always did when someone ended up in the medical ward with an injury they couldn’t walk off or slap a bandage on mid-fight. Tony hoped this would be forgotten easily. He really did not need another person concerned about him and noticing how he was tearing at the seams.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, trying to be flippant, even though this was important to him. “I got caught up in schematics with the new suit. You know how it is.”

He held his breath and thanked JARVIS’s programming that he didn’t say something about elevated heart rates again. That would have been just peachy. If they could forget about him being nearly two hours late, proceed as usual, that would be... Aw, hell. Who was he kidding? He got lost in his own head again and destroyed something special once more. Sure, it was only pizza rolls and chatting, maybe some dumb movie or cartoons, but it was their thing.

“I was worried,” Steve finally said, and if that didn’t make it all worse. “I called your office, but Pepper said that you were out in the suit. I figured you would be a bit late, but not this late.”

Well. Okay then. This might be salvageable.

“Yeah. I’ll call you next time when I’m going to lose track of time.”

Steve frowned even harder, if that were possible. “Look, Tony—”

“No, no,” Tony said, cutting him off. “Let’s just find the pizza rolls and...”

Steve stepped forward, grasping his elbow. “Tony. It’s fine. I know the suit is important to you and you can lose track when you’re working on something. I do it all the time when I’m drawing. I was just worried because I couldn’t reach you until JARVIS sent you a message.”

“Oh. Well. Okay.”

Breathing. Yes, breathing. He really needed to do one of those exercises now or at least just get enough deep breaths in so that his heart stopped thudding in his chest. It was almost painful. Steve was just worried, as he should be, because anything could happen to one of them. They had countless enemies, and someone not answering their phone tended to mean a kidnapping or something. Not always, though. Sometimes Natasha just liked to go off grid to feed some ducks and—

“What is that smell?” Tony asked, finally noticing the scents of yeast, cheese, and herbs.

Steve shrugged. “As amazing as pizza rolls are, I had a craving for actual pizza.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, grateful for the distraction. Grateful that Steve was letting this go for now. Maybe the night could be salvaged and they could just laugh it off later. “What do you mean by _actual_ pizza?” he asked.

Steve gave him an even look. “That stuff from Chicago is not pizza. The _actual _pizza is gonna be done soon.”

“So you actually made it. Huh, didn’t think you knew how to bake, Cap.”

“Cook, actually,” Steve corrected. “But JARVIS helped me out. I wanted—”

The timer on the oven rang, cutting him off.

Steve held up a finger and shuffled over to the oven, grabbing two oven mitts as he went. When Steve pulled the door open, Tony was hit with a wave of heat and the even stronger scent of dough and garlic. His stomach growled loudly, and it was only then that Tony realized he hadn’t eaten in... way too long, probably. 

Steve turned at the sound, a single eyebrow quirked. “Hungry, are we?”

Tony made a face and nodded. “Flying does that to a person,” he said lightly. He didn’t necessarily want to bring the conversation back around to how late he was, and why, but he realized, deep down, that it was probably unavoidable. Steve and letting things sit and fester don’t exactly go hand in hand. Never turned down a fight, et cetera.

“Grab some plates?” Steve asked as he walked the pizza carefully over to the table. It looked as good as it smelled, Tony couldn’t help but notice; of course the first dish Steve made was perfect. 

Tony grabbed plates, napkins, and a pizza cutter, held it out for Steve to do the honors, and dropped unceremoniously into the nearest chair. 

“All yours, Gordon Ramsey,” Tony said.

Steve cut the pizza into eight perfectly measured slices and placed two on Tony’s plate, another two onto his own, and sat down beside Tony, their arms nearly brushing. 

Tony took a bite and groaned dramatically, which earned a laugh from Steve. “_God_, what did you put in here?” he asked.

“I’ll tell you... if you tell me why you disappeared for so long tonight,” Steve counters.

“I told you, Cap, I lost track of time testing out changes to the suit. No biggie.” It sounded like a lie, Tony knew it, and he waited for Steve to call him on it. 

“What kind of change?” Is all he asked, though, and Tony narrowed his eyes; there was no way he was getting out of this so easily.

“Speed, repulsor pressure, you know,” Tony said. 

Steve gave a noncommittal hum and took a bite of his pizza. “Huh. It’s not bad,” he said, clearly impressed with himself. “You fall into a black hole of recipes, you never know what’s gonna come out,” Steve explained, and it was so harmless, a throwaway comment that shouldn’t have made Tony so much as blink, but all of a sudden, the pizza went dry in his mouth, and his chest tightened impossibly. He couldn’t swallow, he couldn’t breathe, and Tony was suddenly positive he was going to die right there in the kitchen, eating Steve’s amazing pizza. All over two words: _ Black. Hole. _

Steve noticed the panic in Tony’s eyes quickly. “Hey, hey,” Steve said, gentle now. “Look at me. You’re okay, Tony. Just... focus your breathing. Match it with mine, can you do that for me?” he asked, and Tony _wanted_ to. He stared into Steve’s worried blue eyes and he tried again. _In and out_. Once, twice, a few more times until he steadied himself enough to swallow. He dragged his eyes up to meet Steve’s, knew there was no avoiding the conversation after the spectacle he’d just made of himself. 

“You know,” Steve said, “This is never going to work if we’re not honest with each other.” He placed a heavy, reassuring hand on Tony’s arm, and Tony froze at the touch.

“This?” Tony asked, hated how tight and unsure he knew he sounded. “What is it that we’re doing, Steve?”

Instead of sighing or frowning or anything else Tony braced himself for, Steve put his pizza slice down and dropped his head to rest on a propped up fist and looked at Tony with a lopsided smile and a hint of exasperation. And there's something more in his eyes, expectation probably, but also something warm matching the hand resting on Tony's arm, something like fondness and love and—

"Is this a date?" Tony blurted out.

"Yes," Steve said, not missing a beat, "but only if you want it to be.”

_ Honesty is the foundation of any good relationship. _ Pepper's words echoed in his head, the last words they'd exchanged as a couple. Lack of honesty had been their downfall, and Tony could feel it creeping up on him again, threatening to break this new, fragile _ something _ he had with Steve. Dating. That was what they'd been doing, Friday dinners and Saturday movies and every other night just being around each other, Tony tinkering and Steve drawing, or Tony rambling about SI matters and Steve ranting about the misplaced Dodgers, Monday strolls through familiar neighborhoods, and the occasional Wednesday Avengers raid of a supervillain base. Dating in a nutshell, even if Tony had never dared to think of it as such. Did Tony want them to be dating? God, _yes_, a million times. But...

Tony swallowed against the lump in his throat and put his own pizza down. This was it. This was The Talk. 

Okay. Tony could do this. If they were going to... to be together, Steve deserved to know. Steve needed to know.

Okay. Yup. Anytime now.

Tony blew out a shaky breath and buried his face in his hands and tried to remember those damned breathing exercises.

Okay. He could do this. It was just literal holes in time-space and alien invasions and then he was in space a million light years away and there was an alien army facing him down and it was so cold, so dark, and he couldn't breathe—

He jumped when something warm and solid pulled him gently against something even more warm and solid, and it was so familiar and safe and _ Steve_, and it was Tuesday team movie nights, when Tony could safely cuddle against Steve because everyone was squished together into Tony's giant couch with everyone else anyway. Where everyone was safe and whole and ready and _ together_. Where Steve could throw an arm around Tony like he did now, and no one batted an eye.

“ULTRON,” Tony said into the silence a few moments later. Steve only squeezed his shoulder, once, and then thankfully resumed his silent stroking on Tony's arm. "It, he." Tony swallowed again, and the lump finally went away. “He's a defense system, a shield, an armor around the world.

“I saw what's waiting for us out there. What's coming for us. On the other side of the—” Tony let out another breath, took a gamble, and slowly, slowly lowered his head onto Steve's shoulder. He shivered when Steve pressed a kiss into his hair, and the last of that draining coldness finally left him. “I can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I'm back there, outside, fighting off the things coming through the hole in the sky. The armor's shutting down and there's nothing I can do.

“So I made ULTRON, am making ULTRON. He's like JARVIS, but he's more. He can protect the world if I—if we—" He took another breath. Damnit, breathing exercises. “Because the Avenger's are good, Steve, but I have to do more, to protect the world. Protect _ us_.”

Steve stilled and Tony hurriedly added, “I know I should've told you guys first, and I will, but timings! It's not like I can say, _ ‘Hey, funny, that alien invasion’s actually gonna happen here sooner or later too. Yeah, Thor, maybe not looking like that but it’ll be worse and we’re unprepared for it. Pass me the popcorn?’ _ during movie nights, right? That'd make me a bad teammate. But. Huh. Guess I’m already one because I kept this all from you and—”

Steve placed his hands on Tony's shoulders and gently pushed him back. Tony's heart plummeted to the ground. Well, there it was. Tony’s Fuck Up. As usual.

“Tony.”

How many steps would it take for him to reach the door? What was his best route here?

“Tony, look at me.”

Okay. He had nine. Number One was risky, possibly unwise, and Pepper would berate him for just thinking about it, but JARVIS was here. The window was sturdy, it _ should _ be sturdy, and Steve gently cupped his chin and made him look at him. How did he do that?

“Tony,” Steve said. Tony snapped his mouth shut at the other’s tone. He waited for Steve’s disapproval, but he just said, “You’re not a bad teammate. You’re amazing. But we’re a team, okay? More than that, we’re family. Whatever’s coming, we can beat them as long as we do it together.”

Steve let out a small smile. “You’re doing so much to protect the world, Tony. Will you let me be the one to protect you?”

When Tony didn’t reply, Steve’s smile faltered. “I mean, I know you don’t actually _ need _protection. You’re our ‘kickass’ Man of Iron. But... I just want to always be by your side.”

“Sir, your heart rate is severely elated,” JARVIS interjected, and he was _ not _allowed to sound that smug. Where did he learn to be that smug? “Again, Miss Potts has asked me to remind you that the breathing exercises you practiced—”

“Oh my god. J, shut up.”

“Breathing exercises?” Steve asked, brows furrowed.

“Don't worry, it's not the bad stuff this time.”

“This time? Tony, if you're—”

“Jeez, Steve. Can each date just have one major opening up thing?” Tony took a few steps backward and sat down on the stool. Leaning sideways on the table, he closed his eyes and massaged his temples. He was getting too old for this.

“So... this _ is _a date.”

Tony opened his eyes and watched Steve sit down in front of him, their knees brushing. Steve looked at him with that smile again, with so much warmth, so much love, and it took every ounce of Tony’s willpower to remain calm because he could feel his—

“Sir, your heart rate—”

“Christ,” Tony muttered before he fisted Steve’s shirt and brought their lips together.

It was like flying higher and faster and _higher,_ like solving the remaining equation he needed for his nanotech-powered suit, and Tony opened his eyes (when did he close them again?) and blinked. He finally got it! For flight enhancement and storage, he could probably... yes, wait until later because Steve slid his tongue across Tony’s lips and what was he thinking of again?

Not breaking the kiss or getting up from his seat, Steve grabbed Tony’s waist and pulled him into his lap. Steve looked at him with a raised brow and Tony rolled his eyes before closing it again. Yes, whatever, his mind was just full of Steve now. Fuck. 

Hopefully later.

If Tony would ever be breathless, he would rather have it be because of Steve.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and we hope you enjoyed our efforts! Please feel free to leave us a comment with your thoughts!
> 
> \---
> 
> Listed below, in order of writing, are the authors and the first line of the section contributed by the author:
> 
> arttemis: _“Sir, your heart rate is still severely elevated. Miss Potts has asked me to remind you that the breathing exercises you practiced would be of benefit in your condition..._
> 
> [stardating](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardating): _When Tony got back to the tower, his suit slipped away as he walked inside from one of the outer decks._
> 
> [ohjustpeachy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohjustpeachy/pseuds/ohjustpeachy): _Steve held up a finger and shuffled over to the oven, grabbing two oven mitts as he went._
> 
> [Coaster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coaster): _Instead of sighing or frowning or anything else Tony braced himself for, Steve put his pizza slice down..._
> 
> [Bearixt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bearixt): _Steve stilled and Tony hurriedly added, “I know I should've told you guys first, and I will, but timings!_


End file.
